Arrivals

Prior to my departure to the US, I had been told numerous scare stories of over zealous Customs officials making life unpleasant for visitors and migrants to the US. These stories usually followed the format of gun crazed, maniacally paranoid officials shaking down individuals for having the wrong papers, carrying ‘suspect’ items, making jokes about terrorism or the most heinous crime of all – commenting on George W Bush.

It was foreseeable that I could fall into any of these categories, if not all of them. I had darks visions of being dragged away by burly Customs & Border agents after a serious misfire of British humour, to dark interrogation room where an individual who in my mind resembled Jack Bauer would make me talk… Thankfully none of this stereotyped imagery related to my actually experiences. My paperwork was scrutinised on at least three occasions but each time in friendly and polite manner. At Customs, the agent was politer than any British Passport Control Officer I’ve met and took a kind interest in my upcoming studies.

Unfortunately the same could not be said of the stewardesses on my flights to the US. Travelling with Icelandair did initially seem like a risk but the low price swung the decision favourably towards the airline. I was also concerned that the airline would go the way most Iceland banks of late and be bankrupt before I could set foot into Heathrow. However, I safely boarded pleasant and well-kept planes to Reykjavik and then Seattle.

The flying experience was unlike any other, mostly thanks to the air stewardesses. On each flight, the crew was comparatively unremarkable to any other airline, save for the Head Stewardess – a strapping matron like figure of a woman who stood apart from her peppy and fake smiling underlings. She commanded the plane gangway with the air of Genghis Kahn meets Margaret Thatcher and had a gaze that would melt the bravest and most seasoned of passengers. She dispensed meals like rations in an army barracks and marched the gangway as we ate stopping to dispense icy stares at those failing to consume the ‘nutritious’ and oddly glowing in-flight food.

About halfway through the flight, I requested a blanket to fend off the stiff, icy draught coming from the emergency exit as we flew over Greenland. Although the matron was willing to accommodate my request, it was dispense with air of frank disappointment and condescension that shredded my pride and self-esteem.

Next time I think I’ll fly with British Airways to fly in comfort and hopefully maintain my manhood….